


Spock, the Jellybean

by emubop



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, Gen, Head Injury, Humor, I mean sort of I took a crack prompt and made it serious oops, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emubop/pseuds/emubop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So Spock decided to dress up as a giant jelly bean.”</p>
<p>Leonard looked at the pair of them, Jim grinning and Spock flushing faint green. He looked, hard, and wondered (not for the first time) how the hell he’d ended up taking care of these two idiots. And then he dropped his forehead into his palm, hard. </p>
<p>There was a decent pause, before Leonard finally said, “Spock. What possibly made you think that dressing up as a giant jelly bean was a good idea?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spock, the Jellybean

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Star Trek fic I'm posting over here. Fun!
> 
> This is also a Christmas gift fic for a close friend, that is either two years late or two weeks early, depending on how you want to look at it. It's not actually Christmas themed: I had her give me a one-sentence prompt, and then I wrote a story based on that. She's on ff.net as [JazzyAli](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2071952/JazzyAli), and she's a super good writer that's done some really funny Star Trek fics that you should check out. Seriously, she's awesome.
> 
> There is violence, but it's not graphic. I tried not to go too in depth on the injuries. There's some established Spirk, but it's not the main focus.

_“Spock. What possibly made you think that dressing up as a giant jelly bean was a good idea?”_

 

* * *

 

Leonard McCoy was waiting anxiously next to the transporter pad, emergency medical kit at the ready. Not that he was even sure what the nature of the emergency _was_ , which did nothing to make him feel better about an already stressful situation. Jim and Spock had beamed down to a potential new Federation planet for negotiations, and not two hours later Leonard got a call from the bridge telling him that something had gone wrong planetside, and that he was needed in the transporter room on the double. “Damn idiots,” he muttered, re-checking his equipment. As Nurse Chapel came in with an anti-grav lift and assistant, he nodded at the transport technician, giving the order for beam up.

Jim and Spock materialized with a hum, and the first thing Leonard noticed was that they materialized in the same column, with Jim’s arms around Spock to support him. Red and green blood mingled where they were next to one another, each of their chests and arms covered in lacerations, Jim’s dress shirt ripped to shreds. One piece of it seemed to be tied around Spock’s head, where it was stained with a large, dripping patch of dark green. And Spock was wearing what looked like a large red sack. It was hard to tell what the garment had originally been due to several rips in the fabric, and Leonard didn’t really care. What was more important was making sure that both of them stayed alive. 

“Bones,” Jim panted, obviously having been running during beam-up. “Spock’s hurt.” Spock’s legs suddenly gave out, as if to emphasize the Captain’s point, and Jim caught him before he fell. “He got hit in the head, there was a lot of blood, are people supposed to have that much blood?”

“Damn idiots,” Leonard growled, rushing forward to run his tricorder over the pair of them. “You’re hurt too, Jim, three broken ribs. What the hell happened down there?”

“I’ll explain later, just help Spock!" 

Leonard frowned, but gingerly undid the makeshift bandage on Spock’s head and examined the wound, tricorder humming. “The wound itself isn’t too bad, but there’s a lot of debris in there from whatever hit him. Not to mention a serious concussion.” He narrowed his eyes in concentration. “We need to stop this bleeding before I can clean up anything. Nurse, medkit.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Chapel replied, handing the medkit over to Leonard. He opened it, extracted a bandage, and quickly but firmly secured it over the wound. 

“That’ll do until we get to medbay,” he said. “Jim, let’s get him on the lift, come on. Chapel, change it to an upright position.” He moved to the other side of Spock and slung his arm around Spock’s back, and the trio slowly walked forward off of the transporter pad.

 

* * *

 

“Good as new,” Leonard said, running a dermal regenerator over the last of Jim’s cuts. “You’re gonna want to lay low for a bit, though. Let those ribs finish healing.”

“How long am I going to have to wait?” Jim groaned.

“As long as I say so, kid.” Leonard rolled his eyes, then turned to Spock, ignoring Jim’s protests. “And as for you, Mr. Spock, you’re lucky that there wasn’t any internal bleeding, otherwise you could’ve had some permanent damage up in that big brain of yours.” He picked up a nearby PADD and added some final notes into their files. “As it is, it’ll still take a few days to heal up, at the very least. I’m putting you on medical leave for the next week. Just let me know if you need any more.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Spock said, somewhat vacantly.

He sighed, and looked at the pair of them. “Either one of you want to tell me how this happened? Or at least what Spock is wearing?”

“Well,” Jim said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “That’s a funny story, Bones. I’m glad you asked.”

“Jim, no,” Spock interjected, and suddenly he looked more alert.

“So Spock decided to dress up as a giant jelly bean.” 

Leonard looked at the pair of them, Jim grinning and Spock flushing faint green. He looked, hard, and wondered (not for the first time) how the hell he’d ended up taking care of these two idiots. And then he dropped his forehead into his palm, hard.

There was a decent pause, before Leonard finally said, “Spock. What possibly made you think that dressing up as a giant jelly bean was a good idea?”

 

* * *

 

“Jim, we are here for diplomacy, not to visit a parade,” Spock chided, pulling Jim away from the growing crowd. 

“Aw, come on, Spock!” Jim whined. “We’ve got time, let’s...study their culture!”

“I highly doubt that is your intent,” Spock said, but Jim wasn’t listening, having already dived back into the crowd and begun moving towards the edge of the road to get a closer look. Spock sighed, going after him. Sometimes he wondered about Jim’s ability to take care of himself, really.

By the time Spock got to the roadside, Jim had moved elsewhere. The parade marched slowly by, waving colorful flags and playing music and dancing in the streets, all of it most illogical and overwhelming. It seemed everywhere Spock turned, there were people making noise and obscuring his vision. Finding Jim would be near impossible. Frowning, Spock attempted to push back into the crowd, trying to get away from the noise so he could at least comm Jim in peace, but it seemed getting out was much more difficult than getting in.

No matter, he’d just have to talk through all of the background noise, then. He flipped his communicator open, held it close to his mouth and shouted, “Captain! Come in, Captain!”

“Yes, Spock?” came the reply, diluted by static and the blaring of trumpets.

“I cannot seem to locate you within my vicinity. Are you still attending the parade?”

“Yep, just moved to the other side - I think I see you, look up!”

Spock looked up, scrutinized the opposite side, and picked out Jim’s dress uniform, arms waving. “Yes, I see you as well. Wait there; once this float has passed, I will join you. Given the rising unrest in this area -”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry about that, I just got excited and wanted a better view. I’ll see you soon, Kirk out.”

The float didn’t pass, however. It steadily moved forward, but stopped once it was blocking Jim and Spock.

And then it exploded.

Spock ducked for cover as flaming chunks of the float fabric blazed into the crowd, which was quickly disintegrating into chaos. His body was jostled side to side as people pushed one another trying to escape. “They’ve blocked the alleyways!” someone screamed, and several others started crying.

“Jim,” Spock muttered, hit with a sudden burst of panic at the thought of Jim having been too close to the float, Jim getting hit by the explosion, Jim dead. The panic climbed the back of his mouth as he struggled to maintain control and logic. _Have to find him_ , a small, human voice whispered at the back of his mind. _Please, no, Jim, don’t be dead, please._

Spock ran out into the street, avoiding the burning float, only to find himself swept up by a crowd of parade performers, all running away from the explosion. “This way!” a woman screamed at him, dragging him further into the mob.

“No, you don’t understand, I have to -” 

“Are you crazy?! They’ll be here any second! Run!” She gave his arm another sharp tug before they were separated by the flow of people.

“‘They’?” Spock wondered, but she was gone. Free of her grip, he turned around… and found an answer.

Standing in front of the burning float were the performers who had been manning it, by some miracle still in one piece. All six were wearing giant, colorful, bean-shaped suits, and were aiming plasma guns into the crowd. “You will feel the wrath of the Resistance!” they screamed in unison, and began firing off a wide barrage of shots.

To use a human colloquialism: oh shit.

Spock reached back for his phaser but was knocked down by something barreling into his side. “Spock!” it shouted, and Spock recognized the something as Jim, dress shirt torn but otherwise appearing unharmed. “Get down!”

“Jim!” Spock exclaimed, resisting the urge to kiss him right then and there. “T’hy’la, you are -”

“Yes, I’m - are you -”

“Yes -”

“Look out!” Spock looked up and dove out of the way just in time to avoid a plasma blast. The high-pitched zap of phaser fire hit his assailant, then again, before they fell, and Spock saw Jim standing to their side with a phaser pistol in hand.

“Thank you,” Spock said, standing as well.

One corner of Jim’s mouth quirked up, but the gesture seemed to be lacking its usual joviality. “Don’t mention it, Mr. Spock,” he replied. “Let’s get out of here.” Spock nodded as Jim flipped open his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise! Kirk to Enterprise, come in Enter -”

Jim was cut off as an object flew out of nowhere and knocked the communicator out of his hand. Spock whipped around to find one of the other Resistance terrorists holding a...jelly bean shooter?

“This was supposed to be part of the float,” they explained. “But it’s come in pretty handy!”

Spock reached down and drew his phaser, pointing it at them before they could shoot again. “Stand down!” he called.

“How about...no?” They pulled the trigger on the jelly bean shooter as Spock fired his phaser, shooting his communicator off of his hip even as he stunned them.

“Well, shit,” Jim said. “They broke our communicators with some goddamn jelly beans.”

“What reason would they have for targeting our communications?” Spock asked as the pair ran for cover. “The Federation has not been hostile to their Resistance, nor do we show any signs of moving against them.”

“Maybe they don’t like us signing a treaty with their government.”

“But the treaty is classified. The only way they could be aware of it would be if they had someone on the inside.” Spock dropped to the ground, crouching behind an abandoned parade car. “Which, given the events that just occurred, seems probable.”

“We need to get in there and find out who’s the spy, then,” Jim said, sitting back on his heels next to Spock and leaning against the car, one hand against his side.

“May I remind you that we were specifically instructed not to interfere with such affairs,” Spock replied, even as he mentally prepared himself to do just that.

“If a Resistance spy knows about the treaty, they’re probably on the committee that’s going to be signing it, and if they’re on the committee, then they’ll probably try to sabotage the meeting,” Jim reasoned. “They’re interfering with our business, which makes it our problem.”

“I suppose that is possible,” Spock conceded. “I suggest that one of us adopts a disguise in order to obtain information, while the other waits as backup.”

Jim nodded. “Alright, I’ll -” He cut himself off with a hiss of pain as he started to stand up, the hand against his side clutching harder. “Shit.”

“Jim, what is wrong?” Spock held Jim’s arms and gently guided him back down to sitting, eyebrows furrowed and brown eyes intent with concern. “Are you injured?”

“My chest feels - I think I might have broken something.”

“Perhaps you should stay behind -”

“Or it could just be sore from bumping into you!” Jim interjected. Spock didn’t deign that with a reply, simply giving him a skeptical look, before Jim sighed. “Alright, fine. I’ve got your back. Be careful.”

“You as well,” Spock replied, and made to leave before Jim planted a quick kiss against his lips.

"Kick their asses, baby," Jim said, grinning slightly.

Spock refrained from sighing. "I still do not understand why you refer to -"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Idioms aren't logical. You should get going." Jim's grin faded, his mood sobering. "I'll see you soon."

“Of course,” Spock promised, and forced himself to leave their makeshift shelter.

The Resistance fighters that hadn’t been stunned had managed to disappear in the short time Jim and Spock had been gone, leaving a section of street full of rubble and completely abandoned. Crowds pushed further and further away by the second, widening the section of emptiness. Spock picked his way over to the Resistance fighters that he and Jim had stunned earlier, and momentarily questioned his judgment. After all, under normal circumstances, what he was about to do would be considered highly illogical even by human standards. But these were not normal circumstances. He had to do what was necessary.

Sighing, he turned one of the still-unconscious bodies over, and unzipped the costume. Just as he had hoped, they had clothes on underneath. Spock wasn’t cruel; he wouldn’t just leave someone naked and unconscious in the street. But he did need a disguise.

The doubts from earlier came back as he stared at the large piece of fabric in his hands, but just as he had earlier, he pushed them away. It was illogical to be concerned about appearances in a time like this.

So he slipped the costume on and zipped it up. 

 

* * *

 

“Wait wait wait - you looted a costume off a dead guy?! _Spock_ -” 

“He wasn’t dead, Doctor,” Spock said, and even through his concussion managed to look severely unimpressed. “He was stunned.”

“Oh yeah, that makes everything better!” Leonard groused.

“As much as I appreciate your opinion, I have a story to finish.” If he didn’t know better, he’d say Spock was pouting. Screw that. Spock was _definitely_ pouting, in his own sassy, Vulcan way.

“Yeah, Bones, I wanna hear the story,” Jim interjected, not even trying to hide a grin.

“Screw both of you,” Leonard muttered.

Spock ignored this, and continued his story. “I put on the costume and walked over to the float…” 

 

* * *

 

The costume, Spock quickly discovered, was bulky and extremely impractical, given that it proved a hindrance to both arm and leg movement. It hadn’t been designed to be worn by a humanoid, it had been designed for wear by the native people, whose willowy limbs were much longer than Spock’s. They could move easily in it; Spock, on the other hand, found himself tripping over his own feet. 

It occurred to him that the idea to put it on in the first place had not been well thought out. He didn’t take it off, however; it could still provide a way for him to blend in, at least at first glance. Anyone who looked twice would notice his differences, but that would still give him valuable seconds of an advantage. Seconds that he would desperately need, were he to continue stumbling as he was.

The float wasn’t very far at all, but was still on fire, so he skirted the edges of it, searching for an entrance. Somehow, the terrorists had survived the explosion. If he could figure out how, it could give him insight into -

“Halt!” someone yelled, and Spock froze in place before slowly, inch by inch, he turned around.

Three law enforcement officials stood facing him, all of them wielding old-fashioned pistols.

“Hold your hands out!” the middle one shouted, the buttons on their sash indicating they were the leader of the group. Spock complied, holding his hands out to the side.

“I apologize, I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding -” he started.

“Shut up, Resistance scum!”

“I am not in league with the -”

“I said shut up!” The leader fired a warning shot off to the side. “You are under arrest for acts of terrorism, murder of civilians, and disturbing the peace. If you do not come quietly we will have to force you into custody!”

“No you won’t!” a familiar voice yells, and Spock’s eyes widen as Jim pops up from behind a piece of debris and stuns all three officers within seconds. “Spock, get over here!”

“Captain, you just -”

“We don’t have time, Spock, come on!”

Spock obliged and ran over as fast as he could while still in the jelly bean costume. “Jim, by shooting the law enforcement, you may have greatly jeopardized the negotiations!”

“The negotiations were already jeopardized, trust me, we need to get out of here _now_. I managed to fix one of the communicators -”

“I do not think you understand the importance of these negotiations to the Federation or you would not have -”

“Shit!” Jim swore, eyes fixed on a point over Spock’s shoulder, and he grabbed Spock by the wrist. “They’re following us, hurry!”

“If you are referring to the law enforcement, I am not surprised, and you should not be either,” Spock said, barely able to keep annoyance from seeping into his voice.

“No, I am not referring to them, I’m referring to the terrorists who are trying to corner us, now would you start running?!”

Spock glanced back, and sure enough, they were being followed by several figures; some still dressed as jelly beans, others wearing loose and shadowy garments that made them hardly visible against the street. “This costume is hindering my movement, I cannot move faster than I am now.”

“Fine then, uh - there!” Jim pointed to an alleyway and changed direction, Spock stumbling along behind him.

“All of you, stand down!” a voice announced over loudspeakers.

“Dammit, now the police are after us too,” Jim muttered.

“Once again, I do not think you should be surprised by that,” Spock said, as they turned into the alleyway. He stumbled against the wall, grazing the right side of his body and tearing a hole in the jelly bean suit, before pushing himself off of it and continuing to run. The whine of plasma rifles fired behind them, followed by gunshots.

“Duck!” Jim screamed, and Spock threw himself to the ground just in time to avoid a plasma blast to the head. 

 

* * *

 

“I do not recall much of what happened afterwards,” Spock said, leaning back into his pillows. “What I do remember are mostly single images. Jim could likely explain much better than I could.” 

Leonard looked expectantly to Jim, who didn’t need much prompting to pick up the story. “Well, after Spock hit the ground,” he said. “I went and pulled him back up, right? So we kept running…” 

 

* * *

 

“C’mon, Spock, get up, we have to keep moving!” Jim yelled, tugging Spock back to his feet. The Vulcan stumbled, but regained his balance to follow Jim down the alleyway. 

In the time it had taken Spock to investigate the float and get apprehended by the police, Jim had repaired the communicator with the least damage and managed to reach the ship. The ship had not had good news. “Captain, they’re calling off negotiations,” Sulu had told him. “There’s been some kind of coup - the governor told us that she can’t even trust her personal guard. You should get out of there.”

“I need a few more minutes, Spock is -” Jim had started, before seeing the approaching policemen. “Shit. I’ll get back to you. Kirk out.”

He couldn’t take chances with the police, not after what he’d just heard, so he did what he had to in order to get Spock out. And seeing his boyfriend held at gunpoint by the authorities, well… he’d panicked, just a little. As much as he hated to admit it, he understood a little better the restrictions that Starfleet liked to place on couples. Loving someone compromised you.

Jim found he didn’t really care much about that, though. It was entirely worth it.

Only the consequences were catching up to them; with terrorists on their heels and law enforcement in the air, he was starting to run out of ideas on how to get them out of this. It’s not like there was anywhere they could pause to comm for help. And his left side kept throbbing with a sharp pain, and Spock didn’t look much better off, and how the hell did they keep ending up in these kinds of situations? This was supposed to be a routine negotiation.

“Resistance, Federation, stand down!” came the voice over loudspeakers again, and some kind of laser shot was fired into the side of a nearby building. Jim looked on in horror as chunks of stone began crumbling down, right over him and Spock -

“FUCK!” he screamed, and gave a last push of energy he didn’t know he had to push them both out of the way. 

The falling rubble dwindled to pebbles and dust, and Jim ventured a look up. Much to his relief, a large pile of stone had formed between them and the terrorists. They had time to regroup, collect themselves -

Then he saw Spock holding his head, green blood oozing out from between his fingers and stained on a nearby rock, and Jim’s heart stopped. “Shit, you’re hurt,” he said. “Oh god, Spock -” He fumbled for his communicator, rushing to call the ship. “Enterprise, we need emergency beam up now! Have Doctor McCoy in the transporter room, we need immediate medical attention -”

“Jim,” Spock coughed. “The wall.”

Jim glanced at it, and cursed as he saw plasma beams starting to cut through. He snapped the communicator shut midway through whatever it is that Sulu was saying - no time for that, he needed to get Spock to stop bleeding so they could run again. “It’s gonna be fine,” he found himself muttering. “Everything’s gonna be fine, we’re gonna get you to the ship and Bones will fix your head - okay, bandage, where do I find a bandage?” He glanced around, and settled on his shirt. It was already in shreds, he figured he may as well tear off a strip. It was the closest he could find. “Alright, sit still while I -”

Heavy footsteps approached them from the open end of the alley. “Federation Captain Kirk, prepare for surrender!” said the voice on the loudspeaker.

“You should not have shot the police,” Spock said.

“For once, I don’t think this one’s my fault,” Jim shot back. “I talked to Sulu earlier, apparently the governor implied corruption within the law enforcement - there, that’ll hold until we get to the ship.” He tied off the makeshift bandage and pulled Spock to his feet.

“But why - what grudge could they have against the Federation?” Spock mused.

“I don’t know, and right now, I don’t care. We need to get you to the ship -” Jim was cut off with a large blast, and the terrorists began climbing over the rubble behind them. “Come on, we need to run!”

Except neither of them could quite run. It was more of a quick and breathless stumble. Thankfully, the terrorists weren’t in much better shape, and the familiar buzz of the transporter settled in before they could catch up.

 

* * *

 

“And now we’re here,” Jim finished. “And it totally wasn’t my fault this time.” 

“Debatable,” Leonard said. “You’re both lucky to be alive, let’s just focus on that.”

“Yeah, that sounds fine to me,” Jim replied. With a sigh, he finally settled back into his biobed, exhaustion apparently catching up to him. They sat in companionable silence for a while, Leonard happy to focus on editing their files in peace.

Until Spock said, “What about the negotiations?”

They all stared at each other. Spock was unusually blank, but Jim - Jim had that look. The one that meant trouble. “No,” Leonard said.

“Yes,” Jim replied, and jumped out of his biobed.

“Get back here, you need to rest!” Leonard shouted, but it was too late. Jim was already on his way to the bridge. Idiot. Only one thing for it, Leonard supposed: to run after the dumb kid like always.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Sulu had arranged for Federation peacekeeping forces to be sent in to aid the planet. The Enterprise wasn’t needed to negotiate anymore, so Leonard could escort Jim back to bed with minimal grumbling. He gave Sulu a thankful nod on his way out; the guy was always so helpful. At least someone was. 

And now, at last, they could debate the real issue at hand: what to do with the damn jelly bean costume.

**Author's Note:**

> Some alternate lines, in previous versions of the story:  
> ""Kick their asses, baby," Jim said, grinning slightly. "I got your flower.""  
> "Jim found he didn't really care much about that, though. As the old Earth saying went: YOLO."  
> I'm meme trash. I'm dated meme trash, those aren't even current. Fight me.
> 
> Cross-posted to ff.net [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11656329/1/Spock-the-Jellybean).
> 
> I'm on tumblr [here](http://emubop.tumblr.com/), come say hi! Fair warning, I post a lot of Hamilton.


End file.
